Finishing my trailing thought I say, “He’s doing fine on his own. I have no need to worry.”
Cy Whitfield’s a contact from our time in New York forty-five years ago. I changed him when I found his crumpled body in an alley behind one of his nightclubs in Manhattan. Seems a young fledgling got out without supervision and drained the first person he came upon to within a pint of his life. Cy wouldn’t have been able to recover from such a loss unless the alley laid next to a hospital. Did I have four quarts of human blood and the ability to transfuse him right then? Uh…no. But I did have mine.
It was a split-second decision. If he had been unhappy with the choice when he came over, I would have killed him a second and final time out of respect. I drained Cy as much as possible without risking an instant death. Slicing my wrist with a silver dagger, I bled into his mouth before his last heartbeat. He latched on after the first mouthful went down and the rest is history.
After the initial shock and denial phase, followed by the learning curve to control the blood lust, Cy accepted his new afterlife wholeheartedly and was grateful I happened upon him in the alley. Doubtful he would have felt that way if he’d been married with a family, but c’est la vie. I’m glad things worked out. Rafe and I were both surprised when three months later, Cy’s control proved strong enough I could set him free and not look back.
I turn the prospect of calling him over in my mind, voicing my thoughts, “You are right though. He’d be a good person to call for some intel.”
Rafe continues in his argument, “He’s never let you down when you called to research a prospective client. Let’s not forget, he did help us when we jumped into the technological age.”
“Yes… ” I draw the sounds in the word out, torn on what to do. I prefer to have no other vampires close to me. It lessens the risk of who can turn me into the Tribunal of Ancients, which translates to less people I’d have to hunt down and destroy.
“Take advantage of the fact that he feels he owes you for his afterlife and freedom—most masters would have kept a gem like him under their thumb.”
“You’ve made your point, I’ll call.”
Rafe settles back with a small smile of victory on his face. A check of the time reveals it’s almost nine. It would be a great time to call Cy. He’s probably at the Zone Out club now. Grabbing the cordless off the counter, I dial his cell phone. Two rings later he picks up. Before he can get out a greeting, loud music assaults my ear.
“Dria, give me a minute to get in the back room.”
“ ‘Kay.” I can hear him pushing his way through the crowd to get to his private office, while the voices of the patrons carry over the line.
“Cy, over here man!”
“Cy!”
He ignores them. Knowing him, he’s probably gesturing to the phone at his ear while signaling he’ll be right back. The sound of a door closing cuts the worst of the noise to a muted thrum.
“Well, hello gorgeous. What brings on this call?”
That’s Cy for you, right to the heart of the matter. He knows I don’t call often and won’t waste my time beating around the bush.
“Hey Cy, it’s been a while. How are you doing?”
I’m honestly curious. I’d hate to have to track him down and kill him; he’s good people.
“Cali keeping you in line?” I plow ahead before he has a chance to answer my first question.
Cali is Cy’s bonded mate. She’s a werewolf—a pretty uncommon match for an undead. Letting her walk around the club unescorted with the trademark sexual werewolf-pheromones leaking out to a crowd could cause a riot. I’m never sure which of the pair attracts the throngs of humans and supernaturals to the club more—him or her.
Cy rumbles his amusement into the phone “Of course she is. I wouldn’t love her as much as I do if she couldn’t.”
I cut right to the chase. “I need some help with a name.”
“New potential guest?”
“No. I wish.” I fill him in on what’s happened. I trust him to a point, but I don’t like having to rely on others. Rafe listens to my recount as well. His sharp gaze locks on me as if he’s making sure I include everything, even the crescent-shaped scar on John Pierre’s cheek.
“Got it.” Cy hesitates for a second, “Dria, I don’t like this. Let me send one of my security guys up there. He can fly up on my private plane and be there in under twelve hours.”
His voice sounds so adamant it throws me for a second. Quiet, I gather my thoughts on how to respond. He rushes on to fill the silence.
“I know how you feel about other vamps getting too close. You can trust him with your life. I’m talking about sending Cali’s nephew. He was turned over in Afghanistan a year ago. He’s an ex-military munitions expert and a real nice guy.”
In my continued silence he babbles on.
“The skills he’s learned from Uncle Sam have made him a valuable security asset, nothing gets past him.”
Good enough credentials, but I’m just not comfortable with the idea.
“I’m not sure.” God, this is harder than I thought it would be. “This is not just about letting another vampire get too close to me. Some things I’m not going to share even with you, Cy. If I can’t trust him for even a minute, you know what that means, yes?’’
I’m asking him if he is sure, because if he’s wrong I’ll have to kill Cali’s nephew, and he knows it. Cy doesn’t hesitate; a good sign in my book.
“I’m sure, Dria. It would be his honor to serve you. His undead life is yours, for as long as you will need it.”
I snort at his formal reply. It freaks me out Cy doesn’t even stop to consider asking Cali or her nephew their opinion. Which could mean one of two things: he knows him really well and they’ve already discussed the possibility, or he’s eager to get some intel on me and will pay this guy any amount to do the job. Cy has never been one of my pushier offspring, so I’ll take his offer at face value, no matter how hard it is for me to do.
Rafe, able to hear both sides of the conversation easily, chimes in with his opinion privately. Listen to what he has to say, my love. You set him free not only because of his strength, but you knew you could trust him.
Yes, yes. You’re right.
I sigh, resigned in my decision.
“Okay, Cy, if you’re sure I can trust him, then that’s good enough for me.” I don’t bother to add if I can’t, it won’t only be the new vamp who will lose his life. I’ll have to go after Cy too, and he sure as hell should know it in the time he’s been undead.
“What’s his name?” I remember to ask.
“Asa.” His voice carries an excitement I can clearly hear. “My pilot can have him airborne within the next hour and they’ll land at your private airstrip within twelve hours. I’d like you to consider hiring him on permanently if you want to keep him longer than this crisis. He’s looking for a new seethe and would welcome a change.”
“Rafe’s always talking about beefing up our security levels and such. If things work out, it’s something we might consider. Look, I’m on board with it, but don’t you think you’re overreacting a tad?”
My seethe is the size I like it: two. No vamp issues or group discussions. I like things this way and don’t feel inclined to change any time soon.
“No, Dria. I think you’re under-reacting. I know you worry security would hinder the guests enjoyment, but believe me, good security can go undetected.”
It’s not what I think and not why I don’t have a vamp security force. Having to kill to protect my secret isn’t something I relish. But if it makes him happy to think I’m worried about the guests, then so be it.
“Alright, already. Tell him to come dressed normally. He’ll fit in better, more like an employee than a vamped-up Goth guest. And the employees call me Vivian or Viv, not many refer to me here by my true name.”
Cy laughs at my requests. “Yes, Viv, whatever you want.”
I have a feeling this might be one of those
‘laughing at me not with me’ moments but I let it slide. It’s the first time I’ve accepted any offer he’s made to send someone from his large seethe so I’m sure he’s pleased.
We end things with him telling me he’ll have Cali follow up during the daylight hours if an answer comes back while he’s sleeping for the day. Looks like we’re all covered. Damn, it appears we’ll have a new employee soon.
Rafe’s grunt of agreement signifies his satisfaction with the outcome. “Glad you agreed to send Cali’s nephew. I bet he’ll work out great.”
Yippie. The day just keeps getting freakin’ better and better. Good thing Rafe’s optimistic. Maybe I’m just being jumpy, but my gut tells me no.
“Don’t worry Dria, I’ll keep an eye on Asa too, until you’re sure you can trust him.”
He knows my fears. I’m grateful he recognizes them without dismissing them or me. Rafe wasn’t around in the early part of my afterlife during the hardest times, but he’s aware of all that happened and has relived my nightmares through our bond. I've never been completely sure if he realizes he's my greatest weakness. To lose another love would prompt me to walk into the sun and never look back.
My husband stands to stretch before moving to the sink to clean the pans from dinner. We have a chef on site, but more often than not, I’ll find him cooking for himself. He’s a man of many talents.
“I’m going to go change for the bar.” I call out as I walk out of the kitchen.
Rafe looks up from the pan he’s scrubbing.
“Babe, wear something red.”
Worth considering, I do have a lot of red. Not like I need anything to make me stand out more.
“Oh, and suggest it to Olivia as well,” he adds.
Now I see where his devious little mind is going. Oh, he’s good, I’ll give him that. I start to strip while I saunter down the hall, swishing my hips and bottom for all I’m worth. Gotta leave ‘em smiling, that’s me. I hear his voice enter my head softly, almost wistfully.
My liebling, what am I going to do with you?
His love and desire wraps around me like a warm breeze.
“You want a list?” I call back over my shoulder as I cross into our suite. He laughs clanging a clean pan down on the stove.
Chapter Nine
Once I’ve touched a mind I can zero in on it pretty much anywhere on the property. I want Olivia to feel good about herself so infusing her with my confidence is the first step. Reaching out with my senses, I find her mind, a clear bright signature, on the second floor in one of the MacKellan’s suites. I start my projections to Olivia by sending the loving, desired feeling Rafe left me with a moment ago.
I wander to our closet to stand in front of the full-length mirror. The myth about vampires not having a reflection always makes me laugh; I wouldn’t think a trait so distinguishing could go unnoticed by humans for long. Cocking one hip out, I stare at my reflection. I push out to Olivia’s mind, projecting the image in my mirror to her. Running my hands up my sides, I bring them forward to cup my bra-covered breasts, then round them over the tops to slide up my neck into my hair. I’m able to blur my face in the illusion while replacing my copper colored hair with blonde.
Olivia will see the pictures in her mind and think she is reliving an old memory of herself in front of the mirror, or a memory she dreamed. It’s like a strong sensation of déjà vu, though most people can’t tell the difference.
If I’m timing my manipulation right, Olivia should be getting ready now. I allow the power of being desired to course through the vision. Every smart woman knows one important fact—you are sexy when you feel sexy. If I can get her to believe in herself half the battle will be done.
Selecting an outfit from the numerous racks, I grab something form-fitting in fire-engine red. I love the way a corset top displays the girls nicely. Pair it with a pencil-thin skirt which falls just below my knees and a red bolero jacket accented with sequined trim to make the ensemble complete. I send a memory of myself in the ensemble to Olivia, with the powerful confidence I experience when I look so damn good.
With my influence she’ll want to wear something red too. Carefully, I insert in her mind an idea of calling the friendly, sexy, innkeeper if she needs to borrow anything. Slipping a robe on my semi-naked self, I belt it and go sit by the phone. It takes about five minutes for her to call.
“Hello, Olivia.”
Her breathless voice greets me on the other end. “How did you know I was calling?”
Damn, I think I freaked her out. Not good.
“Oh, honey, I know lots of things.” I sense her trepidation and rush to smooth things over. “This phone shows the room you’re calling from, and I guessed it was you and not Joanna.” I’m a smooth liar.
She states her request for clothes in a timid voice and I reply with warmth and encouragement.
“Come on down to our suite. I’ve got something dynamite for you to wear.” I give her directions to find me then gently hang up the phone. Projecting reassurance she did the right thing by calling me, I settle back in the chair for her to arrive.
In twenty minutes I’ve got Olivia dressed in a tight v-neck red cashmere sweater with a matching above-the-knee, equally tight cashmere skirt and ballet flats. Where are the corsets and leather you ask? Know your prey and know it well. If I learned anything from seeing Antonio in the lobby, it’s this: Antonio dresses with style and class. He has good taste in clothes and I can guarantee any man who takes such care in his own appearance is going to judge a woman by hers. What he wants behind closed doors is anyone’s guess, but what he wants in public will be a mirror image of his own style.
He’ll want sexy, but he won’t want in-your-face come-and-get-it-while-it’s-hot sexy. There’s a difference. He craves subtle. Antonio needs to notice her and not her clothes, but those clothes should still be fine. He may have been attracted to the cheap type of Elvira style I was wearing earlier in the lobby, but that’s not the style he’d choose for a mate. I bet he hasn’t even figured it out yet. Ah, to be old and wise does have advantages.
The body-hugging knit shows the delectable curves on Olivia guaranteeing every man in the room will notice. If I can judge a man, and damn, after 500 years I sure as hell can, then she’ll have to trust me. Good thing Rafe likes me in anything I wear, because at heart, I’m a chameleon.
I pass on my unasked-for wisdom to the wide-eyed Olivia during her short visit. Cajoling her to confess her heart’s desire, without her discovering I already know it. I offer to share my man-hunting skills with her tomorrow over tea at eleven, which she jumps to accept. She has a good heart and appears to love Antonio. After this, I’ll see if I can get the young vamp up to snuff as well.
For now, I look Olivia deep in the eyes to give her some parting gifts of advice and suggest with a vamp whammy she follow them. Poor thing doesn’t know she has no choice. My sly guidance requests that she arrive in the bar at half past ten, not to dwell on Antonio at all for tonight, and instead, to enjoy the company of the other male guests she’ll meet there. Little does she know what I have planned for her.
She leaves, excited and flushed. She’s going back up to her room to adjust her makeup and hair accordingly to match the new clothes. She thanks me profusely, acting as though she’s known me for years. The fireworks later are going to be damn fun and I can hardly wait. I think teasing Antonio will be one of the best times I’ve had in a while. It would be good for the gorgeous Adonis to not get the girl for a change. Make his blood boil.
I take a brief shower, washing my body. Rafe hates when I remove his scent, but tonight I should. He finishes up in the kitchen, coming into the bath right as I leave the enclosure. I dry off slowly while he watches me. He doesn’t say a word. His hot gaze follows as I put the towel back on the rack. I can see what watching does to him. It’s not like he can hide his reaction when he’s big.
“Hey—no fun on your own in the shower. I need you at full mast when you’re done.”
His face appears set and serious; he must be having some naughty thoughts. I turn to the side, bend over at the waist, and pick up my discarded stockings. His eyes take in my every move and he looks like he’d eat me up if given half a chance.
His voice comes out in a growl, “Not to worry dear, I’ll be out of the shower in a flash.”
While he’s wet and soapy, I get dressed and smooth my hair out making it sleek like Olivia’s. I re-apply makeup with a heavier hand, similar to how Olivia's will appear when she’s done. I broadcast the images to her and like a good little student she eagerly follows the new ideas in her mind without questioning their origin. When I hear Rafe finishing up, I lay out his clothes for the evening. One great thing about him is that he lets me dress him up.
It’s like having my very own Americana circa 1950’s-inspired Ken doll: Full sized and anatomically correct. I love to picture the fabric hugging his firm curves and clinging to his hard lines—it makes me hot. The good news is Rafe couldn’t give a rat’s ass what he wears.
On a day-to-day basis, or in a pinch, he can dress himself well. At least, now that is. After sixty-five years he no longer needs Garanimal-type color pictures on the clothes to show what goes with what, but it was painful in the beginning.
Upon seeing the red corset, his grin turns sly, like the cat who ate the canary. “You look vampy-trampy and hot as hell.”
I hand him his things, “I need you to put these clothes on then sit in the chair.”
“Sure thing. Is this what I’m wearing tonight at the bar?”
I nod.
“Okay, looks comfy.”
I watch him remove his white terry robe. Totally without guile, he’s sexier than he knows. My perusal of his actions has the desired effect. He grows firm again while I stare. Knowing me like he does, he knows the fun cannot begin until we set the stage. He pulls on the new clothes then sits where requested. On a hunch, I’ve dressed him all in black. I have no idea what Antonio will choose, but I’m guessing he’s not going to be dressed up like the guys in the Natsuhara cabin.
Vampire Vacation (The V V Inn) Page 8
